Here I am, with all the ugly parts and all the funny parts combined. I’ve managed to (sloppily) merge all three of my blogs and realize they should all have been one to begin with. My health, the move to Italy, and the silliness are all parts of me, so why shouldn’t they all be in one blog?
That said, I’ll be bleeding about diabetes, depression, my A1C, and my efforts to get it all under control so I can leave for Italy taking no meds, or at least many fewer. I hesitated to discuss my depression on this blog, because I thought everyone expected me to just be funny. And, I am. Just not all the time.
I’m clinically depressed and struggle with it every day. Now it’s here and out in the open and will likely rear its ugly head again on these pages. I’m also going to be bleeding about my efforts to get in better shape…I think I hear the gym calling me.
The move to Italy is exciting, scary and will cause me to bang my head against the wall. The paperwork involved in getting my citizenship is a nightmare. I’m also busy disposing of everything we own so we can move with just two suitcases and passports in hand.
All this by July to October of 2015. I’m a planner by nature and (formerly) by profession, but this has me completely freaked out!
I’ve been trying to figure out how to merge my three blogs into one because it’s too much to keep up with trying to handle all three. I’m old. I can barely count to three! Alas, I’m not having much success, so I’ve decided to try some old fashioned cut and paste. Much easier, if a little awkward.
So, here’s the paste from a blog I started some time ago to track getting back into shape. Kind of a long “post,” but since I’m the only one likely to care that it’s here, I’ll leave it just as is.
Next, to incorporate my newest blog, which never really got off the ground – all about my impending move to Italy.
I often feel that life is passing me by. Oddly, I’m not really bothered by that. I’m actually more concerned that others will be bothered by that. You know, my husband, my sister, my therapist. My friends. I spend my days just watching time pass, never engaging, never quite living life. And, it didn’t surprise me at all today to discover this blog entry from last summer. I still feel exactly the same way, day after day after day, despite medications, therapy, more medications and more therapy and more passage of time. I could as easily be standing at the edge of a lake skipping stones. And, I might rather be, honestly. At least there’d be some purpose to all this.
Ok, I admit it. There is no downsizing going on here. No emotional attachment. No dread. Well, ok, some dread. Ok, a lot. And, plenty, but plenty of procrastination.
What makes us procrastinate? There are likely lots of reasons; I’m just trying to figure out which apply in this case. (It’s a good way to procrastinate, after all, this “thinking” about stuff.) I’m just freaking lazy, let’s face it. I have plenty of energy for things I want to do. Well, “plenty” may be overstating it, but I can at least think about things I want to do without wanting to go back to bed.
“Things are different today,” I hear ev’ry mother say. Mother needs something today to calm her down. And though she’s not really ill, there’s a little yellow pill. She goes running for the shelter of her mother’s little helper. And, it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day.” Rolling Stones/Mother’s Little Helper
Ok, so maybe I didn’t take very good care of myself when I was younger. I didn’t do enough sit ups, I didn’t floss twice a day, and I didn’t save for a rainy day. Sex, drugs and rock and roll were often my sustenance. But, I ask you, is it really necessary to be taking more than 14+ (I’ve lost count) medications a day now to make up for it? Is it really worth it?